


After-Life in the Big Tent

by AceQueenKing



Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: And Tahani namedrops, Clown Decor, Clowns, F/M, Fluff, I like to think this takes place during the one with the spinning clown head, In Which Chidi Has a Small Crisis, Neighborhood Reboot: Chidi/Tahani pairing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-09 12:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13481709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/pseuds/AceQueenKing
Summary: Chidi's soulmate asks him a simple question about decor.Chidi isn't sure how to answer.





	After-Life in the Big Tent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afinch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/gifts).



 "So what do you think?" Tahani gestured with such ebullient glee that Chidi found it very hard, very _very_ hard to keep his face remotely neutral as he looked around the - stunning, really - eighteenth century, palatial estate that he and his soul mate had been given. Personally, he preferred the small apartments off of the frozen yogurt shop, but he wasn't going to complain. It suited Tahani well, whose very demeanor, from the two hours he had known her, at least - was very regal. Now she was staring at him, expecting an answer, and Chidi did in heaven what he had always done in life. 

 Chidi froze.  

 The room - their palatial, _opulent_ dining room - was decorated with clowns. So many clowns. He did not know that they even _made_ clown hand and clown shoe balloons, but here they were, the severed set pieces of a table that resembled nothing so much as a clown surgery gone  _wholly_ wrong. There was a runner in the patchwork clown fabric that not even Hamlet's clown would have approved of with ghoulish red pom-pom that looked more like organs than delightful childish decor. Even the chandelier had been draped out in white fabric with bright, red tassels on it, suggesting nothing so much as a horrible split-identity ghost, with all the identities different clowns.  It. Was. Horrific.

 And sitting at their place of honor was his soulmate, Tahani, in a ridiculously colorful circus tent dress, with a bright red clown nose tied to her wrist. 

 "What do you think?" She chirped. She was smiling as if she was the demented clown leader of a satanic cannibal circus.

 Chidi took a deep breath and tried not to hyperventilate. 

 "My stomach hurts." And it did, truly; the ethical complications of how to answer were hard to grasp. How did one tell their soul mate that they made a clown-shaped nightmare? Kant would say to be honest but Rousseau would encourage whatever path took the least harm, and telling your soulmate that they'd decorated a literal _house_ of _horrors_? Especially someone as sweet and kind as Tahani who surely only wanted to make their neighbor as comfortable as possible?

 He sagged down into a chair and nearly scared himself to death when a bicycle born honked.

 "Bicycle squeakers in the chair," Tahani said, smirking at her coup de grace. "My old friend Chris Angel Mindfreak said it was best to challenge the status quo in unexpected moments. He's a magician, of course, but I assume all these circus types appreciate the same sort of ...philosophy."

 "Circus types?" Chidi was beginning to wonder if perhaps there had been some mistake in his file. Did his soulmate - who, granted, he had known for all of a few hours or what passed for them in death - think he was some kind of experts on circus appropriate philosophy?  He needed a paper bag, he couldn't breathe, _couldn't_ breathe. If only he hadn't blown off divergent recreational philosophy in favor of getting a cafe au lait at that last conference in Buenos Aires!  Had that even been cruelty-free almond milk?  Had he respected the environmental impact of it?!

 His soul mate was staring at him with a horrible expression that suggested she was waiting for a response.  It was either proof enough that she knew him at such a level she knew to be patient with him or proof she knew him not at all. 

  "I don't know anything about circus...philosophy," he confessed. She threw her head back in a hearty laugh. He loved that about her. Of course, by default he loved everything about her -- she was his soul mate -- but her ability to be so free with her emotions.... that was enviable.

 "Of course you don't, you silly man," she said, batting her eyelashes. "I would worry if you _did_! But tell the truth - what do you think?"

 The truth.  Right. That was simpler. She had asked, he would give. 

 "It's... _hideous_ ," he said, looking up at the merrily bobbing clown hands and feet bobbling above him. "It looks like some kind of killer clown genocide with helium." 

 "Oh, I know," she said, slapping his hands gently.  He looked up, startled. 

 "I tried convincing Michael that we should have a more neutral palette for the welcome party for our new neighbors but he insisted on clowns. Our new neighbor Eleanor's favorite thing, evidently. But its just _galling_ , isn't it?" 

 She sighed and stood and Chidi tried very hard not to notice the exaggerated sigh of the seat horn. "That's why I like you, Chidi," she said, booping his nose. "You've got a sense of style and you're honest..... that's hard to find."

 "Well I am...happy to be found," he said, the relief coming off him in droves.  He could do this, would do this. He reached out and cupped her cheek; she smiled, gave him a quick peck on the cheek and skipped off toward the kitchen, no doubt making more clown-themed hors-d'oeuvres that would be positively hideous. 


End file.
